Drunken Affairs
by pinkpigeontowa
Summary: Holmes and alcohol are not a good combination. But a drunken Sherlock and Watson... now whats going to happen there? Rated M for content. Don't like yaoi don't read


Drunken Affairs

Watson stared down at the pitiful, half conscious figure on the floor before him and sighed heavily. He pulled his gold chained pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time before snapping it closed and replacing it. He nudged the lifeless form of Sherlock Holmes with the toe of his shoe. The detective grunted, said something in gibberish, rolled over and slept on. Sighing again Watson brought his foot back and kicked his partner hard in the side. Holmes gave a groan of pain but continued to snore. The doctor rolled his eyes to the heavens, asking some unseen force why he had been dumped with such a burden as Sherlock.

Crouching down, Watson hauled the drunk onto his back. Shaking him slightly he called; "Holmes?" then louder, "Holmes!"

"Uh?" was Sherlock's sleepy reply. His eyes half opened and he reached a hand up to John, slapping his cheek gently. "Good work dear man," he mumbled, eyes closing again as his hand fell back onto his chest.

Growling to himself, Watson bent so his mouth was right next to Holmes' ear. "GET UP!"

A hand connected with the side of his head and he fell back onto his backside on the dirty, bottle covered floor. Holmes curled up on himself slightly, hands covering his ears. "Leave me alone," he whimpered, child like, trying to find something to hide under.

John shook his head, got to his feet and dusted himself off. "Fine," he said, turning away from Holmes, "Be like that." He made his way over to the thick, once red curtains and pulled them back, allowing the afternoon sun to flood the room. There was a shriek from behind him and a smirk crossed his face. "I gave you a chance Holmes," Watson stated simply, opening the rest of the curtains and the windows in an attempt to get rid of the strong smell of alcohol and musty air, before starting to tidy up, making as much noise as possible. "I asked you nicely to get up but you didn't. You're drinking yourself to death and I don't want to be the cone carting you carcass out of her. You look awful, you smell and further more- hmph!"

Doctor Watson found himself unable to say anything. In a desperate attempt to shut him up, Sherlock Holmes had dived at Watson, slamming their mouths together in a bruising kiss. His hands fisted in the doctor's hair, pushing him up against the wall, his tongue forcing entrance into his mouth. John stood there shocked, un-moving and un-responding until Holmes pulled away grinning.

"That shut you up," Holmes said triumphantly and slightly breathless. He was about to pull away but his eyes locked onto Watson and he stopped. The doctor's eyes had darkened with lust, need and, as he realised why his partner had kissed him, hurt. Hurt that Holmes didn't like. It made his heart clench painfully and he wanted to get rid of it, he needed to get rid of it before it saddened Watson further.

Holmes hand slipped from Watson's hair and stroked his soft cheek in a small circular motion. John found himself leaning into the hand, his eyes closing slightly. He reached out a hand to fist in Sherlock's dirty white shirt and he pulled him closer, raising his head and sealing Holmes' lips in another, more passionate kiss. Their eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as Sherlock's hands wrapped tightly around Watson's waist, pulling him closer. The doctor's hands cupped the detective's face. As their lips parted both were panting heavily, staring lustfully into each other's eyes. Neither said anything as Watson tore Holmes' shirt from his body. Watson's own shirt and jacket soon followed and their lips collided again as they stumbled into the bedroom.

Holmes gently pushed this new lover onto the bed, taking a few moments to stare down at the half naked, panting form of Watson. He crawled onto the bed, then onto Watson, straddling the man's waist. Sherlock nuzzled his face into the doctor's neck and nipped at it gently, enjoying the groan that rolled from John's lips/ Sherlock's hands travelled down the doctor's body, easily removing the other man's belt and proceeding to remove the rest of his clothes. Once the task had been completed, Holmes sat back on his heels and stared down at the beautiful creation below him. Watson's eyes were half closed and his breath was coming in short pants. The side of his neck was bright red from Holmes' love bites which brought a grin to the detectives face. John's well defined chest was rising and falling rapidly and his impressive length was already erect. Holmes' grin grew and he dived back down, kissing along Watson's chest, caressing the doctor's nipples with his tongue as he own clothes quickly joined Watson's on the floor. Once they were both naked, Holmes moved back again, staring around his mess of a room for something that would make his next job a lot easier and a lot less painful for Watson. His eyes landed on a bottle on the shelf, presumably oil to help light the fire. Shrugging, he went to collect it, sniffing the content just to make sure.

"That is safe, isn't it?" John asked wearily, eyeing the bottle, "It better not be one of you bizarre experiments."

Holmes chuckled and seated himself between Watson's legs. He reached forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the doctor's lips, coating his fingers in the oil. "It's perfectly safe my dear Watson," he murmured. He slipped his oil slicken fingers down to Watson's entrance and circled the clenched muscles before inserting one digit into his lover. The doctor grimaced in pain as Sherlock slowly pulled his finger halfway out again.

"Shh," Holmes soothed, caressing Watson's stomach as he inserted a second finger and stretched slightly. Watson let a whimper pass through his gritted teeth. One of his hands took Holmes free one, entwining their fingers. "It'll get better I promise."

Sherlock slowly pushed a third and final finger into the detective. To take John's mind off the pain he leant down and kissed him deeply, his fingers preparing his lover's entrance.


End file.
